Flight of Aquavit (30 page)

focused on beating my mother at her own game.

And thankfully the evening passed with pleasant-

ness. Pleasantness, a pink elephant, a spotted

giraffe and a flying zebra.

When I was ushered by the receptionist into

Daniel’s office on Monday morning, I noticed

something different in my client. He was wearing

a light grey-green suit, a solid green shirt and a

matching patterned tie. He rose, held out his hand

and smiled as he always did. It was nothing obvi-

ous. But it was there. Was it his manner—relaxed

and open? The glow in his eyes? The way he car-

ried himself with vigour and confidence? Had his

experience on Saturday night as a drag queen vis-

iting his first gay bar changed him?

“Russell, thank you for coming. I appreciate

you taking the time.”

“Well, I am working for you, so I guess my

time is your time. Is something wrong? Were you

followed again?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m sorry. I should

have given you more information over the phone.

You see, I’ve made an important decision that I

think you should know about,” he announced.

Oh, oh. Was he about to come out of the closet?

As a drag queen named Clarissa? What had I done?

Anthony Bidulka — 237

“As you know, it’s time for my payment to

Loverboy and…I’ve decided not to make it. I’m

not going to mail the cheque.” As he said this his

chin rose a tad and his voice was triumphant.

I wasn’t immediately sure how I felt about his

decision. “What convinced you to do this?”

“Nothing…and everything. I think it’s the

right thing to do. The only thing. I want this to be

over, Russell, and I think this will help. I know

you’d never suggest it because of the possible

danger to me, but it is a good idea, isn’t it? I mean,

this might help flush him out, won’t it? He’ll have

to contact me again to find out what’s happened

to his money and when he does that, hopefully

he’ll screw up or leave some clues for you to fol-

low.”

“You’re right, Daniel, there are dangers to you.

You risk making Loverboy angry and doing what

he’s threatened to do all along—make your

homosexual activities public. Or worse, he could

become more threatening or even violent. He

might change the terms of your agreement and

ask for even more money. That’s the problem with

a criminal you know nothing about, there’s no

way of knowing just what they’re capable of.

Maybe we should wait before making such a bold

move, give my investigation a little more time.

I’ve only been on the case less than a week.

Something will turn up.”

“No,” he said, his shoulders squared off like a

warrior’s. “Besides, it’s too late. The payment was

due today, the fifteenth. When Loverboy checks

his mailbox, it’ll be empty. I don’t think he’ll do

238 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

anything rash…at least not right away. He won’t

want to jeopardize his getting the fifty thousand

eventually.”

I took a deep breath. I was nervous for him.

And worried. “Daniel, are you sure? This is a big

step. Do you really understand the possible conse-

quences?”

“I know you’re going to find him, Russell,

before anything untoward happens to me. I just

know it.”

His confidence in my abilities was generous.

But was it misplaced? I would find the blackmail-

er. But would I find him before he damaged

Daniel Guest’s life forever?

“Let’s go over the candidates again,” I instruct-

ed as we took seats around Daniel’s desk.

“You’re convinced SunLover is out of the pic-

ture for sure?” he questioned.

I thought about Anthony and my stomach

lurched involuntarily. I nodded. “Yes. SunLover is

not Loverboy.”

Daniel nodded, seeming to accept my decision

on this point. “So that leaves James Kraft. And you

know what I think about him.”

I did.

“It has to be him, Russell. It just fits. Besides,

with SunLover eliminated, he’s the only one left.”

“You’re forgetting that there might be other

possible candidates.”

He sighed impatiently. “I know. I know. You

think people I work with could be involved. But

you met the lot of them at the Christmas party. See

any potential Loverboys in that crowd? I doubt it.”

Anthony Bidulka — 239

“I’m not so sure yet.”

“Are you saying you think James Kraft cannot

be our Loverboy?” He was twirling a ballpoint

pen between his fingers like a mini baton; his

voice was challenging and he was frowning.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“We agreed to hold off on going to New York

to find James Kraft until we thought we’d taken

care of business at home and concluded it was the

right move. Well, if I have a vote, and I think I do,

I think it is the right move. Now.”

I nodded. It was time to acquiesce. After all, he

was the client and I had so far failed to come up

with a more plausible local lead. Besides, he was

right. James Kraft was our most likely suspect.

And I felt better about making the trip, now that

I’d done some preliminary work on the case and

gotten a better feel for it and my client.

“I don’t mean to be a hard-headed jerk about

this, Russell, but he’s the only candidate we’ve got

right now and…well, I just want this over and

done with as soon as possible. Could you go to

New York this week?”

I thought about my mother. I was unsure about

leaving her, but I nodded nonetheless. “I’ll

arrange it.”

“Great. Let me know when and where you’re

staying. We should keep in touch. If James Kraft
is

Loverboy I want to know about it right away.”

Daniel’s phone rang and he answered it. He lis-

tened to whoever was on the other end for five

seconds then put them on hold. “Listen, I have to

take this, it’s a conference call. Is there anything

240 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

else we need to discuss?”

He was the one who’d called this meeting, so, I

guessed, he could end it. I shook my head and

took my leave.

I was about to head towards the staircase that

would take me down into the reception area, but

stopped myself. The walls of the atrium were a

deep purple and the matching carpet a thick

berber. The only sounds I could make out behind

the closed doors lining the corridor were the click-

ing of computer keys and the odd muffled voice

on a phone. Chartered accountants at work.

Instead of turning left to the staircase I turned

right and found what I was looking for in fairly

short order—a door with a nameplate that read:

Herb Dufour. I tapped lightly on the door and

opened it about a foot, sticking my head in far

enough to catch sight of the man behind a desk

even bigger than the one in Daniel Guest’s office.

I wondered if the size of your desk was some sort

of status thing with accountants or a sign of virili-

ty like a monster truck?

“Mr. Quant,” Herb Dufour greeted me. He hur-

riedly came out from behind the impressive piece

of furniture and approached me with an out-

stretched hand. We shook. “I didn’t know you

were in the building.”

How would he, I couldn’t help wonder. When

I’d cased the building—as was my habit (just in

case I’d need to break in one day)—I hadn’t come

across any hidden cameras or microphones.

Perhaps it was simply a figure of speech. Perhaps

I was being an anal detective. “I was here meeting

Anthony Bidulka — 241

with Daniel and thought I’d drop by to say hello.”

I could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t

really buying my reasoning. But, so what.

“Would you like a coffee or something else to

drink?” He motioned me to sit in a chair that was

dwarfed by his massive wooden edifice. As I

took my place he returned to his own seat of

power. I took notice of an impressive array of

plaques and degrees and commemorative framed

photographs on the walls, many relating to his

years as a city councillor.

“No thank you. I won’t stay long. I’m sorry for

stopping by unannounced. I know how busy you

must be.”

He grinned a pleasing grin that made his big-

boned face appear softer. “Actually, come this

time of year I like to take it a little easier and cruise

gently into the Christmas season. I have a

Christmas party, concert, come and go, wine and

cheese or dinner every night from now until the

twenty-fifth. It’s all I can do to make it into the

office in the morning.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said. Herb Dufour

was a successful man who struck me as one of

those guys with boundless energy and stamina.

He could probably work until 1 a.m., go out with

the guys for drinks afterwards, then go home,

watch some TV before bed, wake up at dawn for

exercise and review of the morning news pro-

grams before heading back to the office to do the

same thing all over again.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Quant?”

“I forgot to ask you something the other night

242 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

at the Christmas party. I was just wondering if you

happened to be at the SBA awards ceremony the

night Daniel received the blackmail note.”

He looked at me steadily but did not answer.

“So…were you?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, drawing out the word.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m interested in talking to anyone who

might have been there that night. They might

have seen something or noticed someone who

shouldn’t have been there or was acting strange-

ly.”

He appeared to be thinking this over. Finally

he rubbed his wide chin with his wide hand and

answered. “No, I can’t say that I did.”

“How about Marilee?”

He frowned. “Marilee?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I just assumed since she

was with you at the Christmas party that she

might also have been…?”

He regarded me carefully before saying, “No.

Marilee was not there that night. I had another

escort that evening.”

“Oh,” I said. “Who was that?”

He looked at me as if I’d asked him what he

did on a particular Thursday afternoon seven

years ago. “I don’t recall.”

“I see.”

“Have you been having any luck on the case,

Mr. Quant?” he asked in an obvious attempt to get

off the subject of his varied unmemorable escorts.

“Yes.” I always say yes to a question like that,

even if the answer is something different.

Anthony Bidulka — 243

“Well, I hope you remember my offer to help

you in any way possible.”

“I do and I’m sure Daniel is grateful to have the

level of support you’ve shown for him. Obviously

you have no issue with his being a homosexual?”

It was a loaded question and a little out of right

field. My favourite kind.

He volleyed back with ease. “Daniel, as always,

has my full support. He is my friend as well as

business partner. I may not understand every-

thing he’s done to…find himself embroiled in this

situation…but I would do
anything
to help him

out of it.” His words and tone of voice were unwa-

vering—a politician’s expertise.

“I hope that won’t be necessary, but I guess

we’ll see what happens now he’s decided not to

pay the blackmail.”

Dufour’s face suddenly changed. If it wasn’t

for his long sleeve shirt, I’m sure I would have

observed the hairs on his arms bristle. This was

obviously unexpected news. “He what?” he

boomed.

“He’s decided not to pay the blackmail.”

“Don’t you consider that completely foolhardy

and…and dangerous, Mr. Quant? I hope you’re

talking him out of it. If he doesn’t pay how does

he ever expect this…this horrific experience to

end? My God, man, he’s not thinking this

through.”

Was it anger or was it concern for his friend or

was it something else that was making the man’s

cheeks and forehead grow redder by the minute.

He no longer looked like any of the images por-

244 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

trayed in the commemorative snapshots on the

walls around us.

“It’s too late. Daniel has already made up his

mind and withheld payment. The money was due